


In which Gil misidentifies the problem

by Overlord_Bethany



Series: unreliable narrators [11]
Category: Girl Genius (Webcomic)
Genre: Gen, Mid-Canon, this poor flapjack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-07-06 06:42:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15880656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Overlord_Bethany/pseuds/Overlord_Bethany
Summary: He needs a map to navigate the inside of his own head.





	In which Gil misidentifies the problem

It became apparent to Gil about ten meters out the door that he had forgotten how to relax.

He tried. He really did. He put on his best smile, and he tried to give Ms. Thorpe his full attention, but the back half of his brain ticked away like an unstoppable clockwork, churning his endless list of problems into a humming feedback loop of anxiety. Missed opportunities, wasted time, and the predictable uncertainty of not knowing what Tarvek said to Agatha in his absence tik-tokked away, feathering the ragged edges of his nerves, until Ms. Thorpe thrust some kind of a pastry into his hand.

“Try it. It’s good.” She smiled knowingly as he bit into the crust.

Gil found himself pleasantly surprised by a mouthful of warm curry. He thought of Dupree, pinching his nose closed and forcing the hottest samosas on the planet into his mouth. Something deep inside him ached. He took another bite, and he smiled down at the curry pie.

Ms. Thorpe led him onward down the street. It seemed a major thoroughfare, with all the cheery shopfronts and smiling vendors. As they walked, Gil mapped the way back in his head, in case they should happen to get separated. Getting lost in London would make for a useless waste of time.

Ms. Thorpe pointed out landmarks, but Gil’s attention strayed. He should have focused on his surroundings, on his current situation. He should have focused on Mechanicsburg and the Other and the gigantic roiling mess that was Europa. Instead, his brain kept bouncing back, as though drawn by magnetic force, to the same damn question:

What if they weren’t joking?

The one troubling question brought others in its wake. If they weren’t joking, was he actually engaged? To _Tarvek_ , of all people? Could they even go through with it? Legal precedent and political implications aside, could the two of them actually get married? To each other? How would they manage not to kill each other? It irritated him already that Tarvek seemed completely unbothered by the idea. If anything, his temperament had improved.

Gil probably just imagined that.

Ms. Thorpe shoved a new foodstuff into his hands. She called it a “butty”, or something like that, and it seemed to consist of bread stuffed with fried potatoes. As Gil took a large bite, he noticed her looking at him in that sidelong way that meant he had done something wrong, that he had missed a cue, or perhaps gone off script entirely. He chewed slowly, trying to give himself time to recover. They moved on down the street.

Ms. Thorpe pointed out another building of note, giving interesting historical details. She finished with, “The clockwork gargoyles were added eighty years ago.”

“Tarvek would love those,” Gil said without thinking. “It’s a shame he’s not here.”

Aw, hell.

Ms. Thorpe almost scowled. Recovering her composure, she gave him a placating smile. “You can bring your boyfriend to see it later,” she said. “When he’s not busy.”

The word _busy_ hung in the air, and Gil recognized it for what it was. He would not be so easily manipulated. More distressing by far was how he had almost corrected Ms. Thorpe. Did he really think of Tarvek as his fiancé? He didn’t even know if he could manage to kiss the man!

At that, his brain bounced back again. Magnetic pull. Tarvek. Sham engagement.

But really, _could_ he kiss Tarvek?

It was a tremendous lapse that he allowed himself to think about it. What possible benefit could he find in imagining… imagining the warmth of Tarvek’s body, so near his own… the overwhelming scent of resin and spice, the way their fingers interlaced just so… the way they always had…

But there was no kiss. Gil’s imagination ground to a halt, leaving the image in his mind awkward, nose to nose, frozen in place. Even in his own head, he could not conquer the distance between them. His heart thundered, and the blood rushed in his ears. What was this? Was this fear? Why would he be afraid to kiss Tarvek?

Or maybe he feared the inevitable ending of their betrothal.

He had no choice, really. If he couldn’t kiss Tarvek, how on earth would he get married to the man? No, no, he would have to break it off.

…Why did that thought make his chest tighten and his mouth go dry?

Gil forced a smile at the shopfronts around him. He would just have to make himself think of something else until he managed to settle his mind on the matter.

“Come on.” Ms. Thorpe steered him toward yet another food vendor. “You simply must try these.”

Yes, good. She could distract him with more food. And honestly, Gil had never been so far underwater before. Shouldn’t he think of that, rather than wasting his energy on such frustrating matters as Tarvek and their possible betrothal?

He could almost swear that the fish vendor gave him a pitying look. Hah. If only he knew the half of it. Gil put on his best, friendliest smile, and he accepted the frozen fish thing that Ms. Thorpe handed him.

He had wasted enough time already. He took a bite of fish, and he asked about their destination.


End file.
